


two kinds of trouble

by speckledfeathers



Category: Person of Interest (TV), White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, First Kiss, First Meetings, Gentle Kissing, Heist, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Post-Canon, i am SO surprised that john and neal aren't a ship that exists, it exists now!, it'll flip between post-canon and during-canon for some chapters, specifically for white collar canon, you'll see how it fits in
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24604783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speckledfeathers/pseuds/speckledfeathers
Summary: The Machine spits out Neal Caffrey's number, and John Reese has no idea what he's in for
Relationships: Harold Finch & John Reese, Neal Caffrey/John Reese, Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	1. the pessimist and the romantic

**Author's Note:**

> if you love one man in a suit, you'll sure as hell love two men in suits. i finished watching person of interest for the first time recently, and have loved white collar for years. i am incredibly surprised that this ship doesn't exist yet, but it exists now! set immediately after the end of white collar but before the end of person of interest. neal's number came up and john was able to "save his life" - and now they can't seem to get rid of each other. canon be damned, i believe neal can change (and wants to change) and would stay in ny if he had the chance instead of running away to his life of crime in paris. but, he also has met john and who knows what nonsense he can sink his teeth into with team machine?

Two knocks.

They were quiet, but they broke Neal out of his trance. Ever since he got home, Neal had been going over the events of the day— repeat, and remember. Don’t forget a single detail. Figure out what really happened and why it happened. He was alive, and he shouldn’t be. There was a city across the ocean that was calling to him and he longed to be looking out the window of a plane, gazing at the moon sparkling on the water.

Neal could have run. His faked death might have been ruined, but he still could have run. So far, his entire night had been spent trying to figure out why he stayed and why John had been there to save him when he didn’t even _need_ to be saved. Before answering the door, Neal glanced down at his anklet and let out a sigh. He had been so close.

“Coming!” Once he opened the door he was greeted by John’s face, and his breath caught in his throat. “You look.. _different._ ”

John’s expression tightened just enough for Neal to notice. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I never pegged you as a suit guy. That’s supposed to be my thing.” His eyes wandered down to the unbuttoned top of the other man’s shirt and then flicked back up. “You got something against ties?”

“Not necessarily. Just not my thing.” John replied, his face barely changing but still somehow drawing Neal in. “You got something against sleeves?”

“No. I have a wide style range.” Neal smiled softly.

“I’m aware.” John looked amused for a flicker of a moment before he switched back to being serious. “Listen Neal, I said I would explain some things to you, so here I am. Do you mind if I come in?”

“Right. Yes, of course—” Neal stepped back and opened the door to let him in. After shutting it behind them both, he moved over to one of the chairs at his table and grabbed the hoodie draped over it. It was awfully casual for him, but after his almost-but-not-really near death experience he figured he deserved some comfort. Plus, John pointed out his bare arms and now Neal felt awfully exposed.

John stepped in and then proceeded to gaze over to his small corner library. Neal watched him for a few moments and then zipped up his sweatshirt— the sound seemed to get the other man’s attention. They looked to each other for a few beats and then Neal broke the silence again.

“Want some wine?”

John turned, eyes flicking to the wine rack and then back to Neal. “I wasn’t planning on staying that long.”

“I thought you were here to explain yourself.” Neal replied, casually walking over to the wine rack while pushing his sleeves up to his elbow. “And I happen to believe that you have an interesting story hiding behind those mysterious eyes of yours. I want to hear everything.”

“I’m not here to tell you everything.” John watched as Neal pulled out a bottle of red. He didn’t stop him. “Some things, sure. But not everything.”

“I’ve said that same thing to so many people, many times. I understand.” A split second later, Neal pulled the cork out of the bottle with a satisfying pop. “Trust can be hard to come by. But you’re here, and that means something. You wouldn’t have come if there wasn’t some part of you that wants to be honest.”

That seemed to shut him up. Not that John ever seemed to be very talkative— even when they were working the heist together, he revealed very little. Even less than Neal did. It was an interesting change of pace to look at a man with just as many secrets as he had. Possibly even more. John was very sheltered, like there were walls upon walls guarding something delicate underneath. He was a puzzle with too many pieces, and Neal was dying to try and fit it all together.

John hadn’t moved since he came in, choosing instead to watch Neal move around the room. The now full wine glasses were set down on the table, each at a separate seat, and now the con man was walking the few steps back to the man in the suit. “People usually go quiet when I say something that hits close to home. Is that what just happened?”

They were close now. Very close, like they had been back when John was trying to get him out of that tunnel and back to his life— Keller at their feet. Neal was still shaken, but right now he was starting to feel nerves for a completely different reason. Grey blue eyes glanced down at him, and bright blue ones stared right back. “I stay quiet for a whole lot of reasons, Neal.”

“I’m sure you do.” He took another step closer.

What happened next wasn’t exactly clear. There was space between them and then— there wasn’t. Neal was sure that he moved closer but their lips met faster than expected. It wasn’t soft but it wasn’t rough— just unexpected. And a bit clumsy. But certainly not unwelcome.

Neal felt a firm hand press flat against his chest, and he reveled in the warm touch as fingers brushed against his collar bone. At first he thought maybe John wanted him to stop, but he felt the hand ease back and then inch downwards just enough for fingers to gently grasp at the top of Neal’s hoodie and pull him closer.

There was a moment when Neal paused, leaning into the gentle pull John had on him and hungry for just a bit more— and then it was over. John tilted his head down and the pressure on Neal’s chest returned. They parted, mouths moving away slowly until there was just enough distance between them for their eyes to open and look at each other.

John’s gaze met with Neal’s and then immediately dropped back to their feet. Then his hand dropped away from Neal’s chest.

Neal took a small step back. “Did I read this wrong?”

John didn’t look up, but Neal witnessed him smile for the first time. It was warm and genuine, even if he ducked his head further down to keep it as hidden as possible. He lifted a hand and tried to cover it, and when the hand fell away the smile was mostly gone. “No.” He looked up, straightening his spine. “I’m just not used to.. moving that fast.” Neal sensed there was something more to it than that, but he wasn’t going to pry. Not yet at least.

“Interesting.” Neal’s comment was playful and soft, not meant to jab. He stepped back a bit further and straightened his hoodie. “I’ve always been more forward, I guess. My default setting is to jump headfirst into things like this.”

John shoved his hands into his pockets, one corner of his mouth staying perked up. “How’s that worked out for you so far?”

That question had a complicated answer. Or, if he were to be truthful, a consistent answer that was more painful to think about than he cared to admit. Neal’s face immediately shifted from being playfully soft to painfully hesitant. 

“I see.” John replied and then cleared his throat. “Seems like we both have bad luck with.. _things like this._ ”

“We’re a perfect pair.” Neal joked, his tone laced with bitterness. None of it was meant for John or this connection they had. He just hated thinking about the failed love that haunted him. But even with the heartbreak he carried with him, Neal fell hard each and every time.

“If you ask me, there’s no such thing as a perfect pair. Just people who find comfort in each other, for however long they can until it’s over.”

“You’re a pessimist. I’m a romantic.” Neal shrugged. “It could work.”

“I know much more about you than you know about me.” If Neal had a guess, he would say that John sounded nervous. But that soft voice of his had a way of keeping things ambiguous. He turned around and paced aimlessly towards the shelves of books he had been gazing at earlier, then stopped with his back to Neal. “Isn’t that why you wanted me here? To even the score?”

“Partly, yes.” Neal watched him with curiosity, making his way over to join him. “But here’s what I do know. You joined an elite group of criminals, but you’re not a criminal— at least, not like I am. You’re good with guns. You protect people, but you don’t like to kill unless that’s the last option on the table. You’re suspiciously good at being exactly where you need to be, when you need to be. And you saved my life. Or at least you think you did. It was a valiant effort, I’ll give you that.”

Once Neal reached him, John gave him a side glance. It didn’t give Neal any clues as to how he had interpreted those last few sentences.

Neal inhaled and then continued. “You’re a mystery. You’re good at blending in where you need to blend in, and I’m sure you’ve got a good story waiting for me. I’ll get you to tell it to me eventually, even if I only get pieces of it at a time.” He posed it almost as a challenge.

“Aren’t you projecting a bit, Neal?” John spoke up again, his tone very matter-of-fact.

“Maybe. But that’s what makes this way more interesting. I just have one question right now.” Neal defaulted back to his smirk, but it didn’t feel fake this time. Maybe this was better than running away to Paris after all. “I’m confident John is your real first name, but what’s your last name?”

There was a pause. John looked away, back to the books, and then let out a sigh. “Reese. John Reese.”

 _“Reese.”_ Neal repeated it back. “I like it.”

John let out a short huff of a laugh. “I can’t believe I came all this way just because you wanted to know my last name.”

“Plans change sometimes, John. And we have to adjust.” Neal turned his head to glance up at him again. Paris seemed so far away now, and Neal was starting to miss it less. John looked back, and it was like a magnetic pull. 

“Yeah?” John perked up, smirking back. “What did you have in mind?”

Neal tried to hold back his smile. “I could show you my suit collection. But we can ignore the ties since you seem to have no need for them.”

That was the final straw. John cracked— and another genuine smile appeared. He even laughed.

Neal was surprised at how much he loved that sound. He let John laugh, waiting to see if he said anything after.

He did. “As fun as that sounds, I can think of something a bit better than browsing suits.”

“Please enlighten me.” Neal replied with a tilt of his head.

John made the first move this time. It was gentle but deliberate, with both of his hands cupping either side of Neal’s face before he kissed him. John was strong and intense and deadly when he needed to be, but Neal discovered the softness that was underneath all that. It drew him in even further. If this was the way he was going to solve the puzzle that was John Reese, he wouldn’t complain a single bit.

Neal was learning as he went: John was passionate but hesitant, strong but knew his own strength, and vulnerable even though he acted as anything but. He might have swooped in first but it was apparent that Neal needed to keep it going. While John’s hands held their place, Neal’s slowly unzipped his top layer and slipped it off as smoothly as he could, one shoulder at a time. Bare arms didn’t feel out of place now.

They were both getting lost in the motions, feeling each other move. Neal shifted his hands to cover John’s, holding there briefly before curling his fingers around them to move John’s grip. The other man complied, and then Neal began to remove the suit jacket. John responded by almost effortlessly and instantly sliding it off, leaving his button-down shirt exposed.

Once the jacket was off, Neal was pulled closer as John wrapped his arms around his waist. The kissing paused, almost like they were both needing to take a quick breath before starting up again.

Everything felt right. The emotion was there, the connection was there. Neither of them were in a rush and yet it also felt exhilarating. With John’s strong arms still around him, Neal began subtly guiding them backwards towards the couch— one small step at a time. The kissing started again, and then Neal felt around for the top of John’s shirt. If he had been more of a dramatic person, he would have ripped the shirt off with no regard for the state of it after he was done. But he could tell it was nice quality— it was worth taking the time to carefully undo each button.

One by one, Neal got it done. Their destination wasn’t far, and as Neal pulled at the shirt to release it from John’s waist they hit the couch. John threw that layer on the ground next to his suit jacket, and then took his second chance to lead them both. Neal found himself moving so his back was flat against the seat cushions. He was breathless as they paused again, and he looked up to see John above him.

“What were you saying before about this going too fast?” Neal trailed a finger down the crease of John’s chest, not stopping once he hit the tight fabric covering his stomach. His gaze followed his finger over the smooth highs and lows of the muscles it touched, and then he looked back up to John’s face. Loose strands of grey had fallen from their place and sat beautifully across the other man’s forehead. Neal resisted the urge to brush them aside, and instead enjoyed the view for what it was.

“I said I wasn’t used to it.” God, Neal could listen to his voice all day. John kept himself propped up with one arm and used the other to caress Neal’s cheek again. Then he smiled, his expression softer than Neal ever imagined it could be. “I have a feeling you could be trouble down the line.”

“Funny. I had that same feeling about you.” Neal replied, leaning into the touch. “Maybe my trouble and your trouble will cancel each other out.”

“Or maybe you’ll just be a thorn in my side from now on.” John scoffed, playfully. “But what you said earlier? It’s true. I save people. Or.. I try to. If I have to save you again, I will.”

“Good to know.” Neal lifted his head up so that their lips were almost touching. “Now shut up and kiss me again. I’m trying to forget about the wine we left out on the table that will end up going to waste if we don’t finish here.. and go drink it afterwards.”

So John kissed him again. And again and again until Neal forgot all about his alternate life plans as they ended up in bed— leaving behind the wine to sit out all night.


	2. the night we met [ flashback ]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the pink panthers have given neal an assignment - steal a rare stamp from an auction ( season 6 episode 2 of white collar )

“Alright, Finch. I’m in. Time to take a look around.”

_“Good luck, Mr. Reese. Let me know when you have eyes on Mr. Caffrey.”_

“Copy that.” John replied and then dropped his hand down to adjust his bow tie. More people were starting to arrive, making it easier to blend in. He kept his head down and kept to the edges of the rooms, walking calmly. Standard procedure.

Near one of the corners, John paused. Security here was.. interesting. And that was putting it mildly. There was the check-in at the door when you first arrived, but after that? All these rich douchebags were set free to wander the place. At first he pitied the people who were stupid enough to plan this poorly, but there had to be more to it than that. Every piece around the room was on display but—

“Wait, hold on.” John kept his voice low as he casually made his way over to the closest auction item. It was a bronze colored bust, probably worth more than he could ever guess. “There’s no glass around the auction items. Which means there’s got to be something else protecting them. That, or these rich assholes are even more dumb than I gave them credit for.”

_“Well, I sure hope that’s not how you speak about me when I’m not around Mr. Reese.”_

John’s lips tightened into a repressed smile. “Nah. You’re one of the _smart_ rich assholes, Finch. You know that.”

 _“Of course.”_ Finch’s annoyance was feigned. _“So, if the items are not encased by anything physical there must be something else in place to ensure they are not removed.”_

“Exactly.” John tried his best to look casual as he scanned the pedestal up and down. “So what are we thinking? Neal Caffrey, known art thief, walks into a high class black market auction and steals something.. then the people running the auction retaliate? I’m not the only one here with a gun stashed away just in case. There could be a bullet somewhere in here with Caffrey’s name on it.”

_“That does seem to be the most likely scenario, yes. Perhaps our next step is to figure out which of the items he plans to steal.”_

“First he needs to get here.”

_“You have impeccable timing, Mr. Reese. He should be arriving now. But he’s not alone.”_

John removed his focus from the case to look back towards the entrance. “Who’s he with?”

_“By the looks of it— his FBI handler, Peter Burke. But the two of them are here under aliases tonight, which we had already suspected. They’re invitations were addressed to a Nathaniel Dietrick and his father.”_

John watched as Neal and Peter entered and were scanned. They made it past the security just fine. “Alright, thanks Finch. I’ll keep an eye on them.”

_“One thing I can’t seem to understand is why Neal would attempt to steal something while his FBI counterpart was with him. We’ve seen that his anklet has been removed, and the Pink Panthers are vetting him. Why get the FBI involved at all?”_

John moved to keep an even distance between him and his two suspects. He paused as an idea dawned on him. “Maybe our original assumption was wrong. We thought Neal was joining the Panthers because he wanted to— when really, maybe he’s still working with the FBI. He’s gonna work to take them down.”

_“An interesting idea. This would prove that Neal really has broken away from his past. I find that almost inspiring.”_

“Well, I don’t want to jump to any conclusions yet Finch. But.. if it turns out to be true, he’d be the poster boy for reform.”

_“Is that optimism I hear, Mr. Reese?”_

John rolled his eyes, suppressing another smile. “Of course not.”

Caffrey was now paused in front of another one of the auction items. He and his handler were spending a lot of time near it, making excuses to eat and talk as they inspected it just as John had done a few moments ago. John squinted, not quite able to make out what was on display. “I think Neal’s found his target. I’m going to get closer.”

_“Be cautious. If Mr. Caffrey lives up to his reputation, he could spot you spying on him very easily.”_

“Copy.” He began making his way over and pulled out his phone. “I’m going to try and clone their phones. But I have a feeling—” Before he even finished his sentence, his screen let him know that the cloning attempt had failed. “Yeah. Caffrey and his partner are smart. Their phones can’t be copied.”

_“You’ll have to do this the old fashioned way then.”_

“That’s more fun anyway.”

The room was crowded now, letting John slip closer to Caffrey and Burke as they talked.

“Watch.” Neal commented, helping his partner to focus on the item in front of them. It was a stamp, enclosed in a thick layer of protective resin. John kept an eye on it and then there it was— a cloud of cigar smoke revealed delicately laced together green lasers. An invisible alarm system, always at the ready.

“High tech security. A laser grid across the entire length of the exposed area.” John whispered, updating Finch. “I have no idea how Caffrey is planning to pull this off. But I don’t think I should stop him. That’s what my gut is telling me.”

_“That’s definitely a risk. Just make sure that no matter what he does, he stays alive.”_

Before John had a chance to acknowledge, Neal was next to him. He pretended to be unphased, keeping his gaze on the stamp.

_“Mr. Reese?”_

“You’re good.” Neal spoke first. “Very subtle. I almost didn’t catch you.”

John smiled innocently. “Catch me what? Admiring the smallest and most expensive piece of paper in the world?”

“Is that really all this looks like to you? Don’t let my father hear you say that. It would offend his delicate sensibilities.” Neal took a few steps over so that they were facing each other on opposite sides of the stamp. He looked smug, but in the most charismatic way. “That either means you’re here as a watchdog for Woodford, or you’re just a common thief hired by someone else entirely. Which one is it?”

_“Well, he certainly is quite.. observational. Mr. Caffrey is dangerously close to the true reason you’re here. But he cannot know the truth, not yet. If you have to convince him of something, use your connection to Woodford.”_

John kept his expression steady as he looked back to Neal. They were separated by the security system they had both just clocked— and he wondered if the con man had done that on purpose. Keeping a safe distance was a smart move. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m here for the auction, just like you.”

There was a pause. And then Neal closed the space between them, offering out a hand to shake. “In that case, I might as well introduce myself. Nathaniel Dietrick.”

John put on a pleasant smile and shook the hand he was being offered. “John Robinson.”

“Easy to remember. And certainly a face I won’t forget.” It was effortless for him— the flirting, the charm, the easy way he got close to people. John and Harold saw those patterns in him when they were doing the busy work for the case. They prepared for it. But somehow.. it was different being up close and personal with him.

Underneath that charm? It sounded almost like a threat. John was careful not to confuse the two, especially since they would be seeing each other again very soon. This wasn’t a cover that either of them would keep up for very long.

“Likewise.” John replied with a tilt of his head. He leaned in, just a few inches, and then spoke again. “You mind if I give you some advice? Be careful.”

Those few words wiped the smirk clean off of Neal’s face. Right now, neither of them could figure out the other— not completely at least. Even in just the few seconds they had talked, both of them had gained some ground. They were on equal footing until John threw him for a loop. But Neal kept his mouth shut, something John wasn’t sure he could pull off.

A server walked over with oysters. Neal grabbed two, ate them quickly, and then held onto the miniature forks that came with. He did this all while keeping John in sight.

The two locked into a staring contest of sorts until the announcement was made that the auction would be starting soon. When Burke made his way over to collect his ‘son’, John clearly saw him trying to make sense of the situation he was walking into. But like Neal, he didn’t say a word. All he did was give Neal a small nudge, and then the two of them found standing spots in the back of the room. 

_“This is where you’ll need to be vigilant, Mr. Reese. I have a feeling something is about to happen— though I am not sure what.”_

John maneuvered himself away from the auction items and found a spot that gave him the best possible view of both rooms. He had no idea what he was looking for, but that was standard on missions like this. It wasn’t until Neal— or Nathaniel— started a bidding war on the first item that he suspected anything was going to actually happen.

Peter Burke almost decked one of the rich assholes in the face. John had to try his hardest not to laugh, especially with the old-man glasses and the angry look plastered across the FBI agent’s face. But as John watched, he saw the man’s hand ‘accidentally’ slip through one of the invisible security grids.

The alarm immediately went off.

It was then that John realized that he had taken his eyes off of Neal. While the rest of the guests had their attention on the brawl, John found his man slipping back in while adjusting the collar to his shirt and suit. He slicked his hair back with one hand, took a moment to catch his breath, and then placed himself perfectly at Burke’s side like he had never left in the first place. 

“Damn, Finch. This guy is fast.”

_“You sound impressed. Care to explain what exactly just happened? I received an alert that the security alarm was set off.”_

“It was a coordinated set off. Caffrey and Burke each played their part. And somehow—” John glanced to the almost-closed gate surrounding the area where the stamp used to be. It was being held up with the forks Neal had been gathering. “Neal did it. Now he just has to make it out of the building, and he’s home free.”

_“Hm. So perhaps tonight wasn’t as deadly as we suspected it would be.”_

“Why did The Machine give us his number then?”

_“Time will tell, Mr. Reese. We’ll stick with him a bit longer, as we planned to. We can’t leave him quite yet.”_

The room suddenly went silent, and things got even more interesting. Caffrey and Burke played their characters brilliantly, and ultimately John watched as they manipulated the situation exactly how they needed. Although, it was most likely Neal’s doing more so than his partner.

The auction’s host was dragged out of the room with her hands cuffed behind her back. Neal framed her, and now tonight’s show was over. They were being hustled out the door.

It was brilliant. John was used to being undercover, but he wasn’t always as quick on his feet. From what he could tell, Caffrey could pull off anything he wanted— and look good doing it.

As they all shuffled out the entrance together, John weaseled his way next to Neal and Peter. The con man noticed him instantly and shot him a look with narrowed eyes.

“That was quite a stunt you pulled.” John made the comment sound nonchalant, off handed. Like he was just making conversation.

Neal was having none of it. “Well, you should be glad. I took your advice. I was careful.”

_“He has the stamp, doesn’t he? Where is he hiding it?”_

“I give good advice.” John replied with the slightest of smirks. “And truthfully, I’m impressed.”

A few more steps brought them out to the open air and the sidewalk— people were weaving away in all sorts of directions, but Neal and John stayed put in the middle of the chaos. Burke was a few feet away, eyeing them down.

Neal got close and whispered. _“Who are you?”_

John took in a breath, debating his choice of words. But he never got to say anything at all.

“Nathaniel.” Peter apparently wasn’t in the mood to be patient. “I want to go home, let’s leave. Now.” He grabbed hold of Neal’s arm and with one last dagger-filled look to John, dragged his criminal informant away.

John let them go, wishing for some strange reason that Neal would turn back and give him one last look. But he didn’t. And it was Finch’s voice in his ear that brought him back to the moment.

_“Well, our first night with Mr. Caffrey certainly took an unexpected turn. Shall I expect you to return for a debrief, or will you be retiring for the night Mr. Reese?”_

John blinked a few times and then took in a breath. “I’ll stop by before I head home. See you in a few minutes, Finch.” He would take the time to walk, and try to get Neal Caffrey out of his mind.


End file.
